Nectarines vs. Peaches

One of my pet peeves is the fact that the people at the check out lines in supermarkets rarely can identify fruits and vegetables. Yesterday a young man asked me if I was buying peaches or nectarines. I looked at one, it sort of looked like a peach so I said "peaches".  Later that night I went onto the Internet and found out that what I bought, having no fuzz at all, was a nectarine, not a peach. I checked the flyer for the supermercado and found out that, in fact, nectarines were $1.99 a pound and peaches were only $1.49 a pound. I had cheated at the market. 

I wonder if there is a place in Dante's Inferno for people who misidentify fruits at the store. No, they are probably in Purgatorio.  

Americanization

British television shows like Downton Abby and Mr. Selfridge allow us to see how Americans are perceived throughout the world. Being Americans we don't have that one thing, America, that people in other countries blame everything on.

In British novels or mini series, visiting Americans are often presented. They are the loud rude people who come in with their fancy cars and loud voices and their money and ruin things for the locals.

Europe before World War 2 and the influence of Americanization was a halcyon time. A man didn't have to listen to his wife for orders. He got his marching orders from his mother. His wife was content to stay at home, taking care of the children, and cooking family recipes, sewing curtains and otherwise maintaining traditions. The streets were full of small shops where you could visit and get the local news while buying your baguette.

Then Americanization came. Chain stores took over from the small shops. Women wanted to become Americans and work. Children stopped behaving and modeled themselves on Rusty Hammer in Make Room for Daddy. Coca-Cola. MacDonald's. Disney. Sky television. Shopping malls replacing the local markets.

Today in America, among the hip set, there is a desire to become more like an idealized Europe. We see farmers markets, craft fares, cooking classes, and even cute old world olive and cheese stores in the better districts of our cities. But Americanization continues as the croissant is being bastardized as the cronut. I wonder when they'll start eating cronuts in Marseilles.

A boss who comes in late

One of the problems millennials have in the workplace is that since, by and large, they have been raised by permissive parents, they are forced to learn late in life how to "sneak around". For example, take the adolescent home from college in the 70's. He is sitting in the good chair in the living room and drinking Dad's good Scotch. He sees Dad's car drive into the driveway. Now he knows it's a good thing to put the liquor away and tidy things up a bit.

As young adults babyboomers  learned not to enjoy that joint when we noticed the landlord's car is in the parking lot. As workers we learned not to carry on flirtatious calls with our lady friends when the director is in the room. We know we don't eat hot dogs and beer the night before a blood test. These are things baby boomers know that millennials have to learn in their twenties. Millennials also have to learn how to look busy.

Taking advantage of a  boss who arrives at work late is also something we baby boomers have learned.  It allows us to water the plants at home, have another cup of coffee, clean up those plates and still get to work before the boss. Then we scurry around and create the impression that we have been at our desks for half an hour when the boss strolls through the door, late as usual. May the wind be always at your back and may you have a boss who arrives after you do.

Now they've gone too far

We've gotten used to television, video games, computers, i pods,  smart phones and even tablets. But now they've gone too far. Nobody over fifty is going to buy a Google glass. Millennials, yes, but not us baby boomers. They've gone too far. I'd feel silly walking around with those things. I feel silly with ear buds. Some of us have our dignity.

Mother at breakfast

It may be hard to believe, but I was never the most fun person to be around in the morning. My mother worked until 11PM at the hospital and woke up the next morning to her two grumpy children needing breakfast and to go to school. I would sit there staring at dry cold cereal and it was then that I was treated to Mother's stories of growing up in East Texas during the depression. 

Once she surprised me when she told me, "You know, when I was a little girl I had a friend up the street and she had this old woman living with her family who had been a slave."

"Really, I said where did she sleep?"

"In the kitchen."

Then there were the stories of nursing school. Apparently they had some wild times in nursing school. Once they tried to call Eleanor Roosevelt on the phone. The next day the girls were visited by someone from the Secret Service. 

They drank bottles of Coke in the morning, trying to beef up for a long day at Charity Hospital. Charity Hospital was in Shreveport and didn't have air conditioning in those days. 

Of course making fun of Papa's family also came with the orange juice and frosted flakes. As an eight years old I knew what were the natural color's of all of my aunt's hair. 

So here's to all the mothers out their with their testy charges. Enjoy your presents. 

Dog breath

What a great commercial. I've yet to see it on the tv but it's on Youtube. Now I know why I don't have a dog.

Haircuts

You should get a haircut every three weeks. That way you always look neatly shorn and nobody knows when you've gotten a haircut. I get a haircut three times a year. It's great because I go from a short haircut to looking like the drummer for Mott the Hoople. Then it's suddenly, unexpectedly back to a short haircut. Suddenly,  I'm Dobie Gillis.  It's a minor holiday at work. Wow! Mr. Mustache got a haircut!  After a few days, the excitement wears down and my haircut looks normal.

I go to an old fashioned barbershop. There's a barber pole, an all male staff. All male customers. Men talk about sports, their kids and their cars. Once a woman told me that men go to barbershops to discuss how many women they have slept with. Sorry, women are usually not discussed in barbershops, unless they're in the hospital. It's a good thing I travel so I have things to talk about at the barber shop.